


At War's End

by Dr_Psyche



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, Takes place around the Season 2 finale.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Psyche/pseuds/Dr_Psyche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the war wages on Earth, Thundercracker spends his lonely days as a Medical officer under the command of Onslaught. The Seekers are gone, Starscream onto bigger and better things, and Skywarp stuck as a zero point. Thundercracker has nothing on his hands but time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright first things first, bodies:
> 
> Skywarp, Thundercracker and the other Seekers use their War for Cybertron Bodies. The Combaticons use their Fall of Cybertron bodies. Ferak uses his botcon body, Deadlift uses his movie body. The Centurion Drone's appearance is based on IDW Stormbringer comics, a Tank Drone, Cylon hybrid. Spyglass uses his G1 body and Divebomb appears in his Ransack inspired Bi-plane movie body. Vehicons use bodies in the cartoon, and bodies in the Prime video game. The Diagnostic Drones use the Beast Machine's body and the Blastcharge Drones use the body found in the Fun-Publications comic (which is Warpath in Blastcharge's colors).

The Silver Ridge, flew through space. All who saw it would be tipped off to its allegiance, from it’s spiked architecture to its purple paintjob to the imposing symbol on its hull. A remnant of the once great Decepticon empire, reduced to a command station for pillagers.

Thundercracker walked the halls, silently regarding a datapad. He passed by a few troopers, conversing away about the weapons array being better than ever, thank you Ferak.

He arrived at the elevator and took it down, alone, to the lower deck. He exited into another similar hallway lit with purple and went to his office.

The med-bay doors slid open and he entered, passing the Centurion drone that was posted as a guard. He was spending more and more time here, the crew would pay him visits coming back from raids or just for check-ups. They could rely on him to keep them operational, unlike Scalpel, and not turn them into some sick science experiment, unlike Flatline.

His office was better lit; having the med bay switch from purple to white lighting gave it a softer appearance than the rest of the ship. His desk was to the left of the door, datapads containing the crews tech specs arranged in neat piles. The operating tables spread out, all 12 vacant, waiting for the injured from another run. In the back were the non-responsives, 6 comatose bots that were being kept on life-support. Brain levels were low, and Thundercracker was sure that they were hopeless cases.

The three stasis tubes sat on the left wall, all up in working order to help ease his workload. 

The workspace was clean. The beds had the decay and oil washed out of them. His desk and files were organized by name. When a light showed signs of flickering, it was immediately replaced. His laser instruments always were polished and left in their charge slots. He’d almost become obsessed with making his workplace orderly, it was something he could control, here he was the ruler.

No, he wasn’t stir crazy and anxious, get that thought out of your mind.

He sighed and placed his date pad back on the desk, dead center as it should be. He walked over to the non-responsive bots. Two car Vehicons lay on spark support, and a third tank Vehicon was able to sustain himself, but he was likely braindead. On another table was Brawl, fully repaired and ready to go, save for his coma. He and one of the car Vehicons had hit a mine, and both ended up here. Brawl’s tough armor protected him more than the Vehicon currently on spark support, but the damage was still extensive. He’d managed to save both of them, but Brawl just wouldn’t wake up anymore.

He’d explained to Onslaught about this, Brawl’s brain was active, his wounds healed, but there was a disconnect from his mind and body. His spark couldn’t reach his mind, there was some defect. It was a zero point case, he’d explained to their captain, a microscopic injury that couldn’t be fixed by any of their medical advancements. Brawl was unlikely to ever emerge from that coma.

Thundercracker remembered that day when he brought the news to Onslaught. He’d just stared and nodded, face unreadable under the visor and mouth plate. He’d been instructed to monitor the Combaticon, and every month Thundercracker would send in a report. Brawl’s weapons had been removed as had his weapon chip, but unlike the others Thundercracker left it in a container on Brawl’s bedside table, captain’s orders.

The next patient was Shadow Striker, one of their spies. She had been reporting back from their attack on an Autobot base on LV-118 when a sniper took out her team. Only her and the other car Vehicon had survived. Her head had been shattered, and his spark was struck. Thundercracker had barely saved the two of them, while the other wounded had passed on the tables. He’d preserved her brain system, which lay exposed and hooked up to the machines. He knew she’d never have brain signals, and they hadn’t had the materials to rebuild her cranium. The Vehicon was better, but the wound was slowly shrinking his spark, Thundercracker knew he would be dead in a week, Spark support or no.

The final patient, whom he always saved for last and regarded the longest, was Skywarp. A shrapnel grenade had taken him out, just as he was teleporting in. It was pretty nasty, the flying metal had torn through him, and the molecules had partly fused to his innards. It took quite a while to get him stable; he’d rerouted energon, cut out fused or damaged innards. He really should have focused on other patients and if he’d let Skywarp go he could probably have saved three others, but no, he had to keep Skywarp alive.

Thundercracker had fixed him, replaced his canopy, nosecone, his damaged regulators, his fuel pumps. He’d fixed the damaged ventilation shaft and repaired his torn wings. Sadly, Skywarp would not be rejoining the land of the conscious. He’d also suffered a zero point, near his spark. The nanoscopic tear prevented his spark energies from flowing through out his body. His eyes were dark, just like Brawl, he was useless.

Thundercracker remembered his wingmate’s eyes. They were orange, unusual from the normal red or purple of the Decepticons, but his spark had made them glow. They once pierced the night, an oddity among their comrades, now his eyes were dormant.

The six were all silent as the graves they’d made for the dead. He’d clean them all at short intervals, making each seem ready to get up and reassume duty, bar Shadow Striker. He ran a check of all their brain monitors, each minimal to nil. 

No change.

With this concluded, he returned to his desk. He picked up his data pad, and accessed the thousands of stories he stored on it. From old holopulp, courtesy of Swindle before he fell off the grid, to creations from all over the Universe. Stories from millions of cultures, each a glimpse into their societies. Mechanical, organic, from pictures to movies, to words. Swindle’s brother, Hardtop, had scanned and sent him quite a few comics.

There was so much knowledge here, from societies the Decepticons would pay no heed to until they needed to crush them. Alternian romance novels, depicting the four different types of romance, the book of TITAN, a being said to have created the universe, and so much others. Knockout had sent him quite a few things from his Earth outpost, the Earthlings had a fascinating culture.

Earth, that seemed to be where the endgame was. Megatron and Optimus had gathered there, and Onslaught had wanted the Quantum Engines fixed so they could make the jump.

Megatron was much less enthusiastic since they’d lost Brawl and therefore Bruticus, as he needed muscle. They still had plans to jump, but the importance had diminished severely with Megatron feeling he could take the planet with the soldiers they had. Since then the Silver Ridge had been floating in space, for all intents and purposes they were Decepticon high command now that Megatron had focused his sights on earth.

Thundercracker had seen new members enter and leave the crew since. Swindle was gone, probably off selling arms to different parts of the galaxy. Thundercracker remembered a story Swindle told him about when he sold advanced arms to a world not prepared for them. They just kept asking for more and more, and Swindle was happy to give, he’d made a tidy profit from them, for a year. By the end of that time, there were barely two stones left together in any city on the planet, the civilians had all wiped each other out with the fighting. Swindle joked that it was a shame he couldn’t make any more money, and Thundercracker would never admit that the story of him destabilizing a society and driving it to destruction made him uneasy.

Still, Swindle was gone, and Blast-off had reassigned himself to Chaar. Onslaught and Vortex still ran the ship. With Onslaught, they could pull rank at every outpost they reached, every ship they encountered. At one point they had a small fleet, and had taken a solar system. They’d left the fleet behind to keep power there, so many resources to harvest.

Thundercracker realized that Onslaught was likely the leader in the galactic conflict. They’d lost the Thanatos and all hands during their disastrous attack on Skarro. The natives left none alive. They’d lost Razorclaw and the Predacons, Ruckus, Thrust, and so many others. With Razorclaw gone, and Strika fighting to keep the Quintesson worlds under control, Onslaught was the highest ranked general.

Thundercracker was grateful that their esteemed leader kept the med bay stocked.

His life was fairly dull when off duty. He would monitor the invalids, perform checkups and that was it. He had a lot of free time on his hands until the next conflict, where he, the Diagnostic Drones, and his assistant Spyglass, would be frantic trying to save the critical and fix the injured. 

He got up and pulled a chair up to Skywarp’s bed, shifting through his data pad. He did this far too often, but he felt it a duty. When going through the psychology books he found that zero point sufferers could sometimes wake-up through voices or memories, the gap would be bridged. There wasn’t enough research into it, and it was likely pseudoscience, but Thundercracker did so anyway. 

Thundercracker had read dozens of his favorite stories to his old wingmate, to no avail, and he’d now just discuss events from the seekers with him.

“Hey again. How’re you doing Skywarp?” He said, “No response huh? That’s fine, you only gotta listen. Heh, I know you hate listening to me ramble on, every time I had to explain a new upgrade to you, you’d just doze off, or do that thing with your hand that makes it look like I’m rambling. Hah! You can’t do that now can you? You’re my captive audience… No, sorry, that wasn’t funny. Though if it were you- you’d laugh, pretty hard I bet. Someone else’s misfortune would always amuse you, wouldn’t it? Bad habits I guess, like when Acid Storm accidently infected himself with cosmic rust. You were on the ground howling, as he was telling me how to mix a cure. He could have died Skywarp, but that stuff always makes you chuckle.”

He sighed again, too much of this and he’d look like a tool.

“Anyway, Starscream keeps sending us reports from Earth. Apparently Megatron’s let him back in. Primus knows what goes through his head, I mean we put up with Scream, but if I was Megatron, I’d chuck him into the sun…”

“You’d have laughed at that too, wouldn’t you? So Starscream’s back in, says they’ve got something big that he can’t tell us over the frequency, lest other Autobots intercept it. If you ask me, it’s another dumb idea. A great plan to grant us ultimate victory! That will fail in some other way. Haven’t we had like tons of those? They never work, personally I think they just get convoluted. You remember Operation fireball? I can’t believe we tried to hit our own planet with a moon? How dumb was that? Anyway, Onslaught’s been saying we’re going to have more soldiers coming aboard soon. Maybe there’ll be someone we know. I know Thrust is gone, and Ramjet too, but maybe they found Slipstream, Sunstorm? We could listen to him uh… preach about Mortilus? Ugh, that would be dull, and he’d keep coming down here to preach. Trying to tell us how to devote our lives to Primus. Yeah, you’d probably push him into the elevator shaft. That’d be stupid, and he’d probably try to melt you, but when has doing something stupid ever stopped you? Hey, remember when-”

His datapad went off and Onslaught’s face appeared, asking all high personal to the Bridge and all others to a TV screen, Megatron was about to make an announcement.

Thundercracker nodded and said to his spark-brother “Good talk Skywarp... Okay, that morbid joke wasn’t even funny, sorry man.”

Thundercracker left his chair, deposited the data pad on his table, dead center, and went to the Bridge.


	2. Chapter 2

The elevator was closing as he jogged toward it, the occupant stuck his hand out and halted the door for him to get in.

“Thanks,” Thundercracker said to the con, Ferak, their chief engineer.

“Don’t mention it,” The horned red-faced Decepticon said.

Ferak was a dubious con. He’d been on the fearsome Squadron X, counterpart to the Autobot Wreckers, and fought them throughout the galaxy. Their body count was high, but the Team fell to internal struggle with its leader, Macabre, killing most of his comrades. Damn waste really. Ferak, by all appearances, was harmless. A Tinkerer, he created the designs for the elite Vehicon soldiers, and supped up the Weapons systems of the Silver Ridge. A new array of auto guns were added to the underside of the ship. The last planet they’d invaded was taken in under an hour, when they reached the lower atmosphere, and set their weapons on all the installations below in a fury of hell fire. They’d shaved a fraction off the planets population before they were issued a surrender message.

He and Ferak had conversed briefly when one of his inventions had blown his fingers off. He admitted that once, he and a Wrecker called Wheeljack, had shot and paralyzed each other and were left in a ditch for three days, with nothing to do but talk and wait for their teams to rescue them. After various graphic descriptions of what Wheeljack would do to him, his horns, and his exhaust, Wheeljack settled down and they had a pleasant discussion about armaments and inventions. Wheeljack preached the importance of edged weapons even amongst a society of projectiles, and Ferak criticized the Wrecker’s one grenade policy.

“I mean really, at least have a whole box of them on hand so after you use your single one, you can just replace it.”

They were rescued, and Ferak joked had joked to Thundercraker that the next time they met, Wheeljack removed his lower jaw, and Ferak kneecapped him.

“So, what do you think the captain has to say to us?” Ferak asked, snapping Thundercracker out of his memories.

“Probably the next plan of attack, I’ve added a new Fusion cannon, maybe we’ll get to try it out!” Ferak said, getting giddy.

“Yeah, sure,” Thundercracker said, watching as the elevator came to the floor of the command deck.

The doors opened, and Ferak continued. “The underside guns all have a centralized targeting system, so I’m going to leave that as is, but the engines could use more shielding-”

Thundercracker lost Ferak as the two walked into the crowd assembled at the bridge, and Ferak went on talking to himself, unaware of their separation.

Onslaught stood at the top of the Bridge, screens behind him and all over, displaying his faceplate.

He waited for everyone’s attention before speaking.

“Approximately 14 cycles ago I received a message from our esteemed Lord and Master, Megatron. It was heavily encrypted, but our code breaker got it to me in under an hour, thank you Vortex.”

The First Mate just nodded

“I was debating as to whether or not I should share the information with you, but I have decided to now. Roll it.”

Vortex pressed a button, and the large screens and indeed all the screens on the ship, were replaced with Megatron’s face.

“Greetings Decepticon high command. It is your liege, Megatron. We have ascertained a high victory over the Autobots today. The former Traitor Starscream has provided me with the Omega keys, the devices we shall use to open the legendary Omega lock and restore our dead planet. The Autobot corruption that has killed it shall be reversed,”

Thundercracker grimaced at that bit of Propoganda. Even among the Decepticons that line tended not to fly.

“And our glorious planet shall reemerge under my iron fist. The skies shall be purple, the great buildings will be adorned with the Hard working Decepticon civilians who’ve earned their positions on the backs of crushed Autobots. We shall have control of the planet. Cybertron will be reborn!”

The transmission ended and the room was silent. The assembled cons didn’t know what to think. They began to mutter amongst themselves, and Thundercracker listened.

“are we really going home?”

“Is it true?”

“just another one of Megatron’s schemes, it won’t succeed”

“can’t believe he let Starscream back in, he’s just going to mess it”

“still on about how the Autobots poisoned Cybertron. We all remember his speech about how Dark Energon would-”

“this is a fake, brought on by the Autobots and their stock footage, I bet it’s a trap”

Thundercracker stared at Onslaught, waiting for their commanding officer to say something.

Onslaught took center stage again, and raised a hand for silence. The crowd settled down and waited for his address.

“I know you all have some feelings about this. It could be fake, it could be our biggest victory yet. Regardless, Megatron has sent this, as he was about to enact his plan. He may have succeeded or failed already in the time it took for this message to reach us and be decoded. Our mission will continue however, we will invade Primax-V with two other Battleships. There we feel there will be the remaining parts we need to fix our Quantum engines. Then we shall request permission to aid our leader. Are there any further comments?”

The assembled Decepticons remained silent until Onslaught dismissed them.

Thundercracker filed out with the others and was about to return to his office to get some reading done, when Ferak stopped him.

Thundercracker turned to him and Ferak said, “My offer still stands.”

Thundercracker sighed and said “I’m sorry Ferak, but I intend to leave him as he is.”

“But he’s in a coma, Thundercracker, he won’t feel anything. Think of the potential of us having a short-range teleporting ship.”

“Yes, but it could kill Skywarp trying to spread his power that wide. The teleportation mutation only affects him, and those he touches in a very limited number. Trying to teleport an entire ship could have us smeared across 5 different planets.”

“I could account for that, if you’re sure you can’t remove his ability.”

“I can’t, and as his surrogate decision maker, I’m denying your plan to integrate him into the ship.” Thundercracker said firmly.

Ferak shrugged and said, “fine fine. If you don’t want it, I won’t force the issue, or give you some veiled threat I’d be too lazy to follow up on.”

“Good.” Thundercracker said.

“Oh, and one more thing. I’m going to be messing around with Electro Magnets, and there is a teeny slight chance I may accidently inadvertently, rend myself limb from limb, so keep the Med-bay stocked, please?”

“Fine.” Thundercracker said, sighing again.

Ferak nodded, and left for his workshop in the rear of the ship. Thundercracker taking the stairs down this time.

He would not give up his spark brother to Ferak’s experiments. It was unheard of. He wouldn’t trust Skywarp’s safety to Ferak, or even the ships safety; hell he didn’t even trust Ferak’s own safety to Ferak. He attempted to install a laser in his knee and the kick back gave him a compound fracture. While setting the break, Thundercracker had to talk him out of his next experiment about installing a lightning gun into his mouth.

He arrived on his floor, walking the purple hallway back to his office. He passed the stationary drone and entered again, office just as he left it. The materials were organized, the space clean, and the six invalids still on spark support.

He sat down with his datapad and began reading to Skywarp and the other five. Even Shadow Stalker, whose head was only a bunch of wires attached to a non-functioning brain and had no audio receptors.

This was the legends of the Imakandi. A small race of proud hunters and warriors. Said to be the greatest trackers in the universe. They hunted prey for food and sport. If offered a job as a bounty hunter or tracker they would accept no payment save the thrill of the hunt. Many came to them, but few could hire their services for they considered few targets actually worthy of hunting. They hunted the skilled or those they considered truly vile. If the hunt was good, and the prey noble, they may spare the captured.

Skywarp would have just laughed at such legends and wondered why we didn’t exterminate them. Thundercracker wondered how such creatures would fare against the empire, but such thoughts were trivial, as their planet didn’t have the resources to justify an invasion.

Thundercracker read on for the next hour before leaving to his adjoining room for some sleep. 

As he left he told Skywarp the news, “We might be going home real soon Skywarp. Megatron’s said so, but you never know. Wouldn’t it be great though, to see Iacon again, to see Rodion, to have a new life? I dunno what you’d say, but here’s to hoping.”

There was no change in his colleagues, and Thundercracker departed from the Med-bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lot's of references to other franchises, can you guess them all?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Season of Transformers Prime has concluded, the Decepticons have established Darkmount on Earth, but the Omega Lock has been lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Title of this Fic is a reference to At Fight's End, the club story set in the Classic's Universe.

Thundercracker was furious, he stomped through the hallway, and he was so close to the Bridge now. It had been almost a week since Onslaught’s announcement of Megatron’s plan, the invasion went off without a hitch, and now they’d been given the results of the Earth team’s plan. A recording by Soundwave of how the Decepticons were so close to victory of how the treacherous Autobots destroyed the only means for their planets sanctuary, and how they had a new base on Earth that they would recreate their glorious empire. The Autobot base had been annihilated, and they were in hiding, with Optimus dead. Victory was close, Starscream had proclaimed, and there were even reports of Shockwave joining.

The ship had been a buzz of renewed hatred of the Autobots, strong patriotism, or grief at their lost planet. Their feelings to their enemy had nearly waned to apathy, but they’d been flared to an inferno again, just like the start of the movement back at Kaon. Onslaught had spoken to the ranks about how they were going to enter a glorious new future, with the Decepticon Empire being reborn on this planet that none of them had ever heard of or visited.

Thundercracker had gotten the news over the screen in the med-bay. He’d watched it while tending to Skywarp. When the news of Cybertrons loss and Megatron’s victory over the Autobots, Thundercracker had just stared at it, dumbfounded.

He just sat there staring at his comatose brother, then at his hands, and then the ceiling. His mind was blank. So much had happened, but Cybertron, Cybertron was gone. Well and truly gone now. The means to revive the planet had been destroyed by their enemy. Any lingering hope they had about going back to their dead world, had evaporated.

When a mech feels a high emotion, their spark pulses greater. The excess energy can lead to sparks, especially in the eyes. An organic may compare these to tears, as if the robots could cry.

Thundercracker was crying. Sparks flowed down his face as he sat there, head in his hands. It was gone, all of it. They were well and truly a marauding race now. Cybertron wasn’t coming back.

Thundercracker cried, alone in the med-bay, all other souls silent. As with many mourners, grief gave way to anger. He removed his face from his hands, now clenched into fists. 

“How could they?” he said.

“How could they?!” he shouted.

He stood up rapidly, chair failing back and stormed out, dropping his datapad on the desk, off center.

He walked to the elevator, thankfully not in use, and rode it to the bridge.

He arrived at the Bridge to find it bustling with activity. The navigators were arguing amongst themselves, the instrument workers were debating, one mech was crying in his chair. Even Vortex had left the helm and was shouting profanities, cursing the Autobots.

Onslaught sat in his chair, thinking, calmly reviewing the footage again on his personal screen.

Thundercracker entrance was unnoticed until he shouted at Onslaught.

“Captain!” The Bridge turned to the seeker, his sonic ability having drowned out all the conversation. 

Onslaught turned to his medical officer.

“This is- I mean – we-” Thundercracker stumbled trying to vocalize his anger into a solitary line of thought.

“What Megatron did was unacceptable.” He said.

All optics were on him now.

“Thundercracker,” Onslaught said, “Tread carefully where you-”

“No!” Thundercracker shouted, “No more, I’m tired of mincing my words, tired of dodging the subject, this cannot stand! We can’t just let this go by. Megatron screwed us!”

“The Autobots screwed us!” Vortex shouted, “They destroyed the Omega Lock we lost because-”

“Because of Megatron’s greed!” Thundercracker boomed, shutting the first mate up. “We had it, Megatron had it. He had the keys, he had the lock, and he’d outsmarted the Autobots. He preyed on Optimus’s misplaced sense of duty. Prime gave up the future of his race for three aliens whom I’m sure most of his faction have never met nor heard of. He sacrificed the future of his species for three members of another. Prime was a fool. But you know what? So was Megatron.”

Calling Megatron a fool was an offense that would land you on the radar of a certain unsavory team of Decepticons, or make one sound like Starscream, either way.

“Megatron had victory in his hands. He had the means to restore the planet. He could have been Cybertron’s savior! We could have had Vector Sigma back and giving birth to new life! We could have been in the fields celebrating a hotspot, summoning more and more life! How many Autobots would leave after all these millions of years and side with the winners? How many?! The Autobots could be crippled, the war would be over. We would be able to go home! But what does Megatorn do? He screws us over! He takes our future, his race’s future, which Optimus prime squandered, to further his ambitions. He decided that no, saving Cybertron wasn’t enough. Oh no, making our planet uninhabitable by pumping poison directly into the core as some big confusing endgame, is somehow the Autobots fault? Scrap!”

More people had entered the Bridge, looking to hear Thundercracker’s filibuster.

“He sacrificed our future, OUR FUTURE!” He shouted with his sonics, “For what? His greed. He decided that Cybertron, his home world, wasn’t good enough. Oh no, he wanted the Earth planet! He wanted some planet infested with organics to be terraformed. Some planet, that many of us have never even heard of let alone seen, as his new empire, as a testament to his ego! He had the nerve, the fragging NERVE, to blast the energies, which could have brought our dead planet back to life, at Earth first. He chose to turn his attentions to give himself a new planet, and spite Optimus Prime first, instead of fixing our broken world, that he himself broke!”

Thundercracker paused for a moment to let his words sink in. He knew the cons were listening, someone, he felt it was Spyglass, had broadcasted the speech to the entire ship. He’d have to thank him later when he was less pissed.

“He blames the Autobots for his own hubris. He attempts to spin this as a victory, which is what? A metal tower in the middle of an organic planet? Is that it? Is that what you chose to do at the expense of our dead home world? A new base? That’s all you managed to give us? I’m sorry if I don’t celebrate, seeing as we’re going to be on this god-forsaken ship for the rest of our lives. I’m probably going to die here! We have no home to go back to now. It’s gone, any sliver of hope for Cybertron is gone because Megatron was a sore winner! I bled for that con, I watched people die for him. I left our world for him; my brother is in a coma for him. What has he done for us? He’s spat in the face of everyone who has bent the knee for his vision.”

Thundercracker spat on the ground.

“That’s what I think of his vision. His selfish, ego-ridden vision, which we were all too stupid to realize. I don’t care about our esteemed leader’s ideals. I don’t care about Optimus’s petty morality, but they both cost us! One was too foolish and put the lives of three beings ahead of his species, and the other put his pride ahead of his species. Optimus is just as bad, he couldn’t let some pitiful organic species go for us, no he had to make it a zero sum game. Take our means of survival from us for a barely developed species. But you know what? I wouldn’t care who won, if it were the Autobot colors that decorated the sky that would be fine. I just want to go home!”

“I just want to go home! I want to see Cybertron again, not some withered dead husk, but its beautiful spires, the Sonic Canyons, the Iaconian Libraries, the pulsing glow of Vector Sigma. I want to see the sun shining down on our planet, to hear the religion nuts claim it’s our God smiling down at us. My friends have died, my family has died, now my planet, OUR planet, is dead. He let Cybertron slip from his hands, he felt the destruction of a minor world was more important than saving our world, he failed at doing both, and he dares, DARES, to tell us that we are victorious? How did we win? Is it because Optimus is dead? Come on, he’s ‘died’ plenty of times; he’ll be back to fighting Megatron within the week. This will all just start again. One Shall Stand, One Shall Fall and all that scrap. An inspirational line and a battle to the ‘death’ won’t solve this, our world is dead. Cybertron’s gone.”

Thundercracker wasn’t shouting now, he was quiet and staring at the floor.

“It’s gone. Four Million years and now its well and truly gone. We can never go home now. We followed him; we fought and killed the people we used to work with, to live with. That’s it. After all of this, I had the idea that we’d be able to go home, but we can’t. Just… why?”

Thundercracker was silent; he looked up to stare at the faces of all his comrades. Each regarding him with different expressions. Nobody moved. He wasn’t dragged off to the brig, he wasn’t shot on sight, nothing happened.

Then, one bot stepped forward. Thundercracker had met him only twice. He was a primitive flight robot named Divebomb. Thundercracker had helped give him an upgrade, or downgrade as it were, into the form resembling an ancient Seeker named Ransack. Divebomb was rarely mistaken for the Predacon, especially in light of the latter’s death.

Now Divebomb stood before Thundercracker, hand gun in hand. He raised the pistol up, and Thundercracker refused to move. Instead of aiming it at him, Divebomb put it to his own cranium and fired. The entire Bridge stared in shock was his cranial fluid splattered on the view screen and his lifeless body hit the ground. Thundercracker froze, though he new that he was dead before he’d completely fallen over.

The Bridge was silent again, the only movement was the pool of energon slowly growing outward from Divebomb’s body.

Thundercracker turned and left, calmly pushing past the bots who’d gathered at the door. Calmly walking down the stairs to his floor. Calmly passing the stationary Centurion drone and entering his office. He straighten his datapad to be at the center of the desk, put the fallen chair back, and sat at his desk, staring off into space. He would wait for whatever repercussions his treasonous speech would bring, and he’d accept them. Cybertron was gone; they had nothing to go back to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onslaught's ship is named after the abandoned mining town in the Transformers Armada comics that the Decepticons used as a base.
> 
> Wildrider uses his Prime body.
> 
> This is the chapter I decided to not bother with Chapter names, they would just be generic ones like "The Speech."

When Thundercracker had left the Bridge sat in silence, until Vortex broke it.

“It’s true.” He said, “God-dammit it’s true! Megatron screwed us. We were so close, and he decided to take a detour. We coulda won! We’d be rubbing it in the Autobot’s faces and embracing the new Energon boon! We could be home now, not floating off in space hoping to find something to steal!

Onslaught turned to his first mate, Vortex’s fists were clenched and he was angry.

One of the gunners, a large truck Vehicon named Killshot, spoke up.

“I worked my servos to the endoskeleton for ol’ Bucket head. I saw my mates die for him. I worked for his dream. I can’t believe this. We’re supposed to buy this? We lost our planet for him to get a new base?”

Another Vehicon spoke up, “Drag Thundercracker off for treason, he was so far out of line! I wanna see what the Decepticon Crown Justices do to him, I wanna-”

“Man, shut up!” Another Decepticon spoke up, “We lost! That’s it, Megatron screwed us!”

The next to speak was Ferak, “I hate to paraphrase our friend Dead End, but we are doomed without Vector Sigma, our birth rates are gone, no more Hot Spots, no more nothing. We’ll just keep going until we break down and die. Our species isn’t going to make it without a replenishing population.”

“Optimus gave up the Omega Keys and smashed the lock because he couldn’t win,” another bot, Wildrider, said, “The Autobots got in the way of Cybertron again!”

“Enough!” Onslaught bellowed, “Despite what Thundercracker said, the fact remains that we are close to rebuilding the Quantum engines. We will repair our drives and get to wherever we need to go. Disperse back to your stations people; we still have a ship to run. We will be receiving a status update from Megatron eventually.”

With that, the Decepticons left the bridge. A Blastcharge drone arrived to collect the body, with two Diagnostic drones cleaning up the mess. The body was taken down to Thundercracker, who dissected and removed any and all parts that could be reused. After that they placed the corpse in a coffin and ejected it out of the ship, one or two of the deceased friends showed up to say some words.

Life aboard the ship went back to its rhythm. Two more Decepticons committed suicide from the revelation of their loss. The process was repeated for them.

After three days of no repercussions from Thundercracker’s speech, Onslaught made his way to the med bay. 

The door slid open as Thundercracker was checking the life signs of the Vehicon with the shrinking spark. 

Onslaught stood there, as Thundercracker finished his readings and turned to him.

“I still wish we had a death clock.” He said.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re against God.” Onslaught replied.

“Never took you for the religious type.”

“And I’m not, the problem is that those clocks have been out of production for quite some time.”

Thundercracker sighed, a habit he was not going to break and looked Onslaught in the visor.

“Is this where you kill me?”

“Don’t kid yourself, I’m not killing my medical officer for having an opinion. Questionable to the cause as it may be.” Onslaught said putting a bottle on Thundercracker’s desk.

Thundercracker looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“It’s a vintage. Starscream and I worked under Deathsaurus when he was still in power. When ol’ Deathy caved, we took his stuff. Split the weapons locker and the energon cellar down the middle, whether he liked it or not.” Onslaught said, taking a pair of glasses from his side.

“Huh, in all my years with Starscream I don’t think this ever came up.” Thundercracker said.

“Yeah, I don’t even think he was interested in the stuff, he just wanted to take it because he could.” Onslaught opened the bottle and poured into the two glasses.

“I had a feeling Swindle and Vortex probably stole it out from under him, no sense letting fine engex go to waste.” Onslaught offered Thundercracker a glass.

The Seeker took it and swirled the liquid. Onslaught raised his glass and said.

“To Blind ambition, and the little people that it steps on.”

He retracted his mouth plate and took a sip, Thundercracker doing the same. It was excellent, truly something a warlord like Deathsaurus would have horded at the conflicts outset. 

Onslaught sighed and slumped down into the nearest chair.

“What’s the status on those six?” He asked, gesturing his head at the comatose patients.

“Brawl and Skwarp have no change. I’m still considering rebuilding Shadow Striker’s cranium, but I don’t feel I have the expertise. The Vehicons are the same, except the one with the Shrinking spark. It’s gotten so weak, I think he’s going to pass any day now.”

“Shame, anyone come to visit him?” Onslaught asked.

“No, I think he had a friend who was shipped to Strika’s unit, but other than that I doubt his passing will affect anyone.” Thundercracker said.

Onslaught sighed, and Thundercracker said.

“Well, what now?”

“With the parts from Primax-V, we’re already repairing the ship, we’ll be ready to quantum jump with the other two in a week, I’ve already sent Megatron a message requesting permission to join him.” Onslaught said.

“Really, after all he’s done, you’re still going to go to him?” Thundercracker asked.

“Hey, I let you have you’re little speech on the bridge, don’t push your insubordinate luck.” Onslaught said, bemused.

“But you are going?” he asked.

Onslaught nodded.

“But, why? He’s doomed Cybertron, we’ve lost!” Thundercracker said.

“We haven’t lost. Earth is rich with raw Energon deposits, we should be able to subjugate these people and live there for as long as it takes. Word is Shockwave’s found a way to create new life.” Onslaught said.

“But it’s Shockwave, what has he created that’s doesn’t kill something?” Thundercracker asked.

“Regardless, we swore an oath to Megatron, to follow him in victory and defeat.” Onslaught said.

“And after all this? We lost Cybertron twice, we’re stranded in space, spread thin, and I think we might be extinct by next millennium and-”

“And what? Thundercracker, what would we do without him? We’d be back in Cybertron slowly dying a pointless death in a decaying society. We have anywhere to go in the Galaxy now.” Onslaught said.

“Megatron doomed us.” Thundercracker said.

“And, we’ve been at war for god knows how long, I’ve spilled energon and countless alien blood for Megatron. Thundercracker, I’ve followed Megatron far past the brink of our world and so has everyone else. We were doomed the moment Prime ejected the Allspark from the planet. Even with it the core is far to corrupt to repopulate and all our colonies have their birth rates at zero. This is our fate, Megatron’s just told us, again, that there’s no going back. So what am I to do? Desert and let the Justice goons kill me? I haven’t heard from them in a while, maybe they expired on some foreign planet fighting the Gogol Empire? Should we defect to the Autobots? A whole ship of vicious Decepticon killers working with the faction who’s killed their friends? Should I usurp our leader? Maybe the Faction will implode and we’d die quicker. Thundercracker, there is no other option. The crew, and that includes you and I, will go back to business as usual. We’ll be in working order, warp to our fearless leader, serve him, and deactivate when the Necrobot says it’s our time.”

“You’re just going to ignore it? Go back to the things we always did, after we got torqued? Just return to the status quo?”

Onslaught took another deep drink and said, “Do you remember Bruticus? Bad question, everyone remembers the combiners. I remember all the mass displacement stretching me out, and my mind fogging over with the thoughts of the other four Combaticons. I got dumber, and everything was a haze. I wanted to kill things, kill Autobots, and just smash all I could in a blind loyal rage. There was a time where wanted Shockwave to change that, make it so I was in control, to be the head of that massive killing machine. All that power, at my fingertips, I remember just making list upon lists of what I could do. I swear to you, I had a few dozen different plans to kill Defensor, from damaging his limbs to just bombing him. I don’t think Shockwave could make it so one mind could dominate. Flatline offered, but I’d probably end up brain-dead. The power was a trade-off for my sense of self, and my intelligence. Shockwave’s inability to separate our consciousness was proof of that. Megatron lead us to where we are, every action, every life saved and lost was done in his name. To doubt that now is far far too late.”

Thundercracker finished his glass and Onslaught poured him another. That was the conclusion to all this, the selfish action that the entire war, their lives and work led to. The killings, the robbing of planets, the end result to so much death and crime could never have been a good one.

“This is it, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Onslaught said, the word was delivered so casually, as if answering if the ship was still purple or if his chair needed fixing. The harsh pleasant tone of acceptance.

They sat in silence for a few moments, before conversing about what they’d do on planet fall. When they finished the bottle, discussion had turned into a slurred recounting of the “Good-ol-Days” wherein Cybertron was prosperous in its corrupt rancid perfection. Had they been sober it would have been a disillusioned acknowledgment of the flaws in society, and how a dead data-stick went un-removed for days before sanitation swept it up. Instead they talked about some of the best bars in Tarn and Iacon, and how once Onslaught took a bet on how long a senate formed cadet mob could beat a helpless empty until they got tired, or he died (being the smart person he was, Onslaught clearly won that bet and made a good 700 shanix when one drunk cadet crushed the empty’s fuel pump with an absent minded kick). Thundercracker, in a sober moment, would later regret how much that had made him laugh.

His captain departed, practice having taught him how to not stagger upon his return to his quarters. Thundercracker’s depart was easier, just moving next door and slurring a g’night” to the Centurion Drone.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, the fader died. Thundercracker had been alerted when the spark had turned to a flicker, and he waited as the bot flatlined. He sighed and shut the monitor off, and pulled up the patient’s information on the data-pad.

Ground body, so Class A, produced in Tarn in the F batch, unit 15.

ATF-15, that was the Vehicon’s name. He put the death out over the intercom in his office, asking if the deceased had any friends or relatives on board who would like to pay their respects. Predictably, no one came.

Thundercracker methodically prepared the body, ordering the Centurion to fetch a coffin from the rear of the ship. First, he opened the body, and looked for parts to salvage. He removed the blasters, the filtration system, several healthy valves, and his right elbow joint (the left was too worn). He examined the optics, outdated, and left them in, removing two tires with the least amount of wear. The voice box was in perfect shape, so it was removed, Vehicons made in bulk would interchange parts a lot easier than regular Decepticons. Thundercracker left the hands, they were scratched and worn, fitting for any worker who’d used them well, but removed a hydraulic in the left arm which had been replaced when he was first brought into Thundercracker’s care, and thus had never been used. He sorted through and stored the removed parts on the other side of the room, the wall extended a number of drawers where he could keep organs and machinery that needed to be used as replacements. 

The Centurion Drone had returned, hefting the coffin inside. Thundercracker directed the bot to a table, where it dropped the coffin down and moved to his side. He gingerly picked up the body and moved it to the box, placing it down with care unknown for a bot of its frame, Thundercracker had seen it fit to program a more delicate touch into the brute if it was to help him.

The drone put the cover back onto the coffin and stepped back. Thundercracker took his laser scalpel and welded the device shut, carving the name ATF-15 onto the lid.

He sketched out a phrase in Primal Vernacular below the name. He’d learned it from Sunstorm, and it roughly translated to “Primus guide this Spark.”

With that done, he told the Drone to lift it and follow him. Thundercracker departed the Medical office, the Drone following him with the coffin. They strode down the purple lit halls, all soldiers and personal bowing and moving to the side out of respect.

The hallway was silent, save for the metal footsteps, and the loud thud of the Centurion Drone. The reached the elevator and descended to the lowest level of the ship, heading past the hangars and bomb doors to the rear.

They arrived at their destination, a small orange Decepticon, Deadlift, was waiting for them. This was the dispensery. If need be, a hard light aided elevator would drop down from here, giving a quick way to the surface or a method of hauling up raw materials. On certain it served other functions, from disposing waste, deploying air soldiers, and, in certain situations, bombs were dropped from here. The room was large enough for twelve Decepticons, and had a control panel, manned by Deadlift, on the right side. A few Energon containers were strewn about, and Ferak was also present, currently rewiring the elevator function. He waved at the duo when they entered, before returning to his work.

Deadlift gestured to the center of the room, where the panels for the floor opening were in place. The Centurion Drone laid the coffin down on it, the worthless name, half-remembered inscription, and Decepticon symbol to follow the body to its final rest.

Thundercracker stood back with the Drone and Ferak, while Deadlift waited for his order. The body lay in the center of the nearly bare room, waiting for Deadlift to deploy the hatch and let it drift off into space.

“Today, we say good-bye to ATF-15. He was a hardworking cog in the Decepticon machine. Doing his part to further the ambitions of our great leader and win the war. From his creation in Tarn, to his branding, symbolizing his devotion to our cause, ATF-15 did as all Vehicons did, followed orders serving our cause. Had his service been above and beyond his creation he would have been awarded with a name, but alas, fate was not to be. I do not know what pantheon he ascribed to, be it the Guiding Hand or the Thirteen or any of the other religions. He may have even been an atheist for all we know, but this fact remains, he was our comrade. May the sun blaze bright in whatever afterlife you may find yourself in ATF-15.”

With that, he nodded to Deadlift, who flipped a switch. The floor under the coffin receded, and the box fell out, slowly, into the depths of space. Thundercracker watched it vanish from view down the ships hull, and Deadlift resealed the door. He muttered a word in Vernacular, nodded to Thundercracker and left.

Thundercracker dismissed the Centurion back to the med-bay door.

Left alone, Ferak turned to Thundercracker and said, 

“Been meaning to tell ya, nice speech, it’s a bit late I know, but you had such a blasphemous way with words.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t going to let it eat me up inside. It’s wrong Ferak, it probably always has been.” Thundercracker said.

“Y’know, back when Squadron X was still around, we served a tour with Strika’s force. Death was a celebration there, after a battle, we’d load up the corpses, send them off, and have our sharpshooters blow-em up. Good target practice for the rookies as well.” Ferak said.

“You made targets out of the dead?” Thundercracker asked.

“Yeah. Let them go out in a blaze of glory and gunfire, that’s what the general said. They fought for their faction, died in battle, or infirmary, or something. Whatever it was, this was considered the proper send off. Blast their remains to ions, leave nothing in this world so they could fully go to the next. Die like soldiers, be sent off like soldiers. Then the living would have a feast, remind us all what it’s like to be alive.” Ferak said.

“Interesting,” Thundercracker said.

“One of the priests for the guiding hand got into a drunken fist-fight with a 13-preacher, funniest thing I saw in a while, least until Macabre put a bullet in both of their heads for pissing him off.” Ferak said.

“How go the repairs?” Thundercracker asked.

“Well, the two ships we ran into both have working slave-circuits that we’ve linked to our own. I finished work on the quantum engines yesterday. We’re all ready to jump soon. Onslaught’s just ordered repairs to minor parts of all the ships so we’re in full working order when we leave. When I get the elevator working, I’m gonna double check the targeting system on the guns on the base of the ship.” Ferak said. “After that, just arranging troop armaments, and there’s a group of Decepticons coming to join us from a few planets over. After they’re settled, we’re off.”

Thundercracker nodded and left him to his work. He returned to his Med-bay, the Centurion Drone stood outside at attention, waiting for whatever would come next. Thundercracker entered, looked at all of his tools, arranged just as they should be. His data-pad was dead center of his desk, and his five non-responsive patients each where he had left them.

He took his pad and walked over to the coma-patients. He pulled up a chair and sat down. Whatever would come next was up to Onslaught and Megatron. The fate of their species was sealed, and it was out of his hands. His own fate was probably never in his control to begin with. Here though, in his medical office, this was what he could control, perhaps the only thing. Starscream would not return his personal calls, their brother was in a coma and Scream couldn’t be bothered. Slipstream hadn’t been seen in quite some time, and Sunstorm was MIA. Thrust and Ramjet were long gone, Dirge had paid his respects when they’d met up with Hun-gurr’s grew. 

Now it was just him and five others who may never recover. Maybe he’d be preparing their caskets for a funeral only he would attend. That, however, was the future, but he had now, and now, he had an audience. The ship was operational, the personal toiling away until the day they would fall offline. The sister ships were synced, their crew making ready for what was to come. His workspace was organized, every place had a piece and every piece was in its place.

He activated his data pad, scrolled to a novel, and he began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this is set in the Aligned Continuity, I borrowed a lot from the IDW continuity.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> I took some inspiration from Skylar Grey's song "I'm Coming Home" from this tumblr post:
> 
> http://draqua.tumblr.com/post/96945972829/tflatte-oneshallstand-who-the-fuck-told


End file.
